


Emerald of Earth

by OpalizedFossil



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedFossil/pseuds/OpalizedFossil
Summary: Lars Barriga, having given up on his previous relationship and remained a nefarious space pirate for half a decade, finally returns to earth to settle down with his enemy-turned-lover Emerald, who quickly realizes that she knows less about human culture than she had hoped.





	1. Play to Win

The _tap-tap-tap_ of Nintendo 64 controllers fills the room, over the sounds of laughter, rough-housing, cheaply rendered video game sound effects, and a fan whirring away steadily in the far corner. Lars is seated on the foot of his bed, across from an outdated old television set with a staticky old screen. Emerald, however, is standing, shoulders hunched as she taps away at her controller.

"Ha, I'm winning!" Emerald taunts him with one of her wild, delirious, snaggle-toothed grins.

Lars laughs. "Not for long!"

The two of them wrestle for control onscreen, playing some spaceship-racing game from two decades ago with embarrassingly outdated graphics, before Lars finally succumbs, Emerald beating him to the finish line by two whole seconds. She laughs victoriously, spinning around to face him and dropping the controller on the rumpled bed sheets with a thump before she plops down in his lap, grinning viciously. "Told ya."

"Wow, you sure showed me," Lars chuckles, gazing up at her fondly as she situates herself in his lap, straddling his thighs and resting her hands on his slim shoulders. She looks nothing like the frightened gem he brought back to earth with him five years ago, dressed from head-to-toe in formal Homeworld officer attire, with a wild mane of hair nearly as large as her torso and a hilariously bad sense of style. Now, that boundless mane has been trimmed down to a neat mohawk, either side of her head close-shaven and barely fuzzy, while the middle is thick, lush, and fluffy, flowing down to the base of her neck. He cut it himself, a few years ago, after some malicious teenager on the boardwalk had commented that she "looked like a clown" and she had taken the comment so sincerely to heart that she begged him to help her look at least a little more human.

There's still something distinctly otherworldly about her, with how her hair rises and falls when she's excited or intimidated, like an animal's hackles, and her finely manicured nails come to sharp points like claws and her canine teeth are sharp and strong enough to sever a man's arm. And, of course, she's as green as ever. But, for all her oddities, she fits in a little better now, having exchanged her naval officer's uniform for, on this particular afternoon, one of his old tee shirts, the one embellished with a cartoony image of a snake, and a pair of plain boy shorts that make her ass stand out like two cantaloupes strapped in thin black cotton.

Lars has certainly always found her to be intriguing. Her Homeworld clothing had been absolutely ugly, but he had always found her to be pretty underneath it. Her natural hair had been a wild, wild mess that had always blinded him and tickled his nose not entirely pleasantly when she climbed into his lap to get frisky, but it had had its own strange appeal. But, her earth look? It's actually _sexy_.

Emerald clears her throat and Lars realizes that he's been vacantly staring for three solid minutes. He huffs, blushes, and looks away, only to have her cup his jaw and gently guide his gaze back to her, her lips drawn back over sharp teeth in a knowing grin. "I know I'm a _superior specimen_ , pretty boy. You might as well stare at me."

"Pft, okay, 'superior specimen,' what are you doing here with me on earth, then?" Lars snorts, a friendly reminder that he's ultimately the only reason that her gemstone's still intact.

"What am I doing here with you on earth?" Emerald chuckles, her one eye going all hazy the way that it does when she's feeling sentimental, "Living."

Lars smiles. "Yeah. Guess we are."

"Not just surviving," Emerald says, sliding slowly out of his lap as she stands, an arm folded across her chest while her other hand idly rubs at her elbow, that one green eye gazing out across the room, "Living."

Lars can't help the fondness he feels for her when she's soft and vulnerable like this. Not Emerald the destroyer of stars or captor of enemy vessels or captain of Yellow Diamond's personal fleet. Just _Emerald_. Emerald of Earth.

Unfortunately, he can't help the mischievous urge that wells up within him when he realizes that her back is turned, either. Emerald is gazing contemplatively out the window when a pillow abruptly collides with the side of her face, surprising her.

Stunned, she stares at him, slack-jawed, for a moment, then gives him a not entirely intimidating growl, bushy brows furrowing. "Why, you little...!"

Lars snorts with laughter, scrambling backwards on the sheets as she throws herself at him, grabbing the pillow by two corners and wrestling it out of his hands. Immediately, he lurches for another, but not before Emerald lands the first hit on his chest, erupting into a fit of giggles herself as he retaliates with a blow to her shoulder, sending up a flurry of feathers.

"Hey!" Emerald laughs as Lars hits her again, swinging the pillow and hitting him in the knees as he scrambles to his feet on the mattress, nearly knocking his feet out from underneath him.

"Oof!" Lars grunts, then bops her firmly on the head with his own pillow, sending up another plume of down before she finds her footing, too, the two of them becoming a laughing, giggling mess of flailing arms, flying feathers, and colliding pillows before Emerald suddenly slips on the sheets and falls flat on her back on the mattress, out of breath.

Lars' gaze ventures down the smooth curve of her neck and watches how her chest rises and falls, rises and falls, mesmerized by the motions of her breasts moving up and down and the way a steady flush of mossy green has ebbed down her throat from her cheeks and washed out over her shoulders, disappearing underneath the collar of his old tee shirt.

Lars eases himself down on her, crawling between her spread legs to grab her by the shoulders, feeling the burning warmth of her through her shirt, and kiss her. She gasps softly into his lips in surprise, then kisses him back breathlessly, again and again and again until his tongue is swirling circles around hers and feeling every jagged outline of her sharp teeth. When he finally pulls away, he's as out of breath as she is, his own chest heaving softly beneath the cotton of his shirt as that fierce hunger burns brighter and brighter within him.

"Sorry, Emmy," Lars chuckles, "Just gotta fuck you right now."

Emerald only smiles dazedly in response, one corner of her lips quirking up over a glinting fang, her brows furrowed blissfully over one hazy eye and one green gemstone. Finally, she manages to reply, "So, fuck me."

Lars grins against the tender skin of her throat, where he presses hot little kisses in a sweeping arch before he suddenly bites down on her neck, right where the muscle connects it to her slender shoulder. Emerald cries out, not in pain, but because she loves this. She's always been a biter, and it hadn't taken him long to realize that she wanted to be bitten, too, sometimes until her throat was blue with bruises and bitemarks and other such tokens of his affection. But, tonight, he doesn't want to take his time sucking bruises on her minty green skin. Tonight, he wants to fuck her rough and fast and hard, until her vision spins with a thousand tiny stars.

Emerald arches her hips up into his eagerly, whimpering pitifully, as he nibbles and kisses down the nape of her neck and out towards her shoulder, one clever hand snaking slyly underneath the fabric of her tee shirt to cup one of the bare breasts underneath, pinching the nipple between his fingers until it goes hard beneath his touch. She has pointy little breasts that slide sideways across her chest when she lays flat on her back, not quite the firm, ideal mountains of pale flesh on the chests of the models in his porn magazines, but he's long since discovered that he likes the shape of hers even more.

"You're so fucking perfect," Lars rumbles into the fabric of her shirt, which has since gone slightly damp with sweat, resting his chin between her perky breasts as he gazes up at her meaningfully.

Emerald grins. "I know."

"Fuck...," Lars exhales softly in mindless arousal as he nuzzles his face down between her breasts, the growing swell of his crotch grinding aimlessly into the sodden seat of Emerald's black boy shorts, until he catches the underside of her clit and draws a high keening moan from her lips. Her hands grip tightly to his shapeless buttocks even as he leans up, just enough to tug her shirt up over her breasts, letting them hang freely out from underneath the fabric that's now bunched up just below her collar. Absentmindedly, he licks his lips as his gaze sweeps over her, smitten with the way a bead of sweat slides down between the valley of her breasts and how her tummy, slightly chubby from a rampant enjoyment of sour earth sweets, rises and falls with every increasingly ragged breath. She's more flushed than ever, gone green from her nose to her breastbone, and her lips are glistening wet with saliva, slightly parted as she pants and heaves.

But, best of all, those plain black boy shorts are stuck tight to her with excessive arousal, prominently outlining the delicate shape of her labia and the little swell of her clitoris where it pokes out from underneath its hood. He licks his lips again as he stares at her, the crotch of his own lazy afternoon pajama pants straining eagerly with arousal.

"Stop licking your lips," Emerald pants softly, squeezing his buttocks harder in her hands, "and start licking _me_ instead, you useless organic."

Lars doesn't have a pesky argument in him right now, immediately wrestling her underwear down her slender legs and twirling them on his finger once before sending them flying away to the floorboards. She releases his backside, but only after he's grabbed her legs and started to guide them back towards her, bending them at the knee as he slides into place in-between them, holding them steady and grinning at how her feet flex and twitch as he gives her that first tentative lick, tongue gliding smoothly between soft, wet labia.

Emerald doesn't taste like a human. She isn't salty, briny, or fishy, not ever. No, she tastes...rather like sour candy, is the best comparison he's been able to come up with in their time together, and he can only imagine that it's because she eats so damn much of it. She has almost no smell, either, except once a year when she suddenly smells strong and skunky like marijuana and yowls for him like a bitch in heat, but the smell is the least of his concerns when that happens, because he's usually very quickly smothered by a soft, warm pussy in his face, about which he has no complaints. But, right now, she doesn't smell like much of anything, she tastes intoxicatingly sweet, and she's absolutely dripping, beads of fluid hungrily swept up by his tongue as it ventures in-between those tender folds, drawing slow circles over her entrance and suckling softly at her swollen clit.

Emerald arches her hips into his touch. "Fuck...!"

"I know, baby," Lars purrs into her wet wonderful sex, "Nobody eats pussy like Lars."

For once, Emerald agrees with him right away, "Nobody!"

"Nobody eats Emmy's pretty pussy like Lars," he coos as he swathes her clit in the blissful warmth of his tongue twice more, "Nobody fucks Emmy nice and rough like Lars. And nobody satisfies Emmy's needs like Lars."

"Nobody...," Emerald pants, grinning deliriously, "Oh, please, fuck me..."

Lars grunts, feeling himself leaking pre and straining painfully against the tight confines of his pajama pants. "I love it when you beg..."

"I don't beg for just anybody!" Emerald retorts, arms twisted over her head to grip at the sheets as his warm, wonderful lips encircle her clitoris and suck on it lightly, bringing her blissfully close to orgasm before pulling away all at once and sending her crashing painfully back down, "Urgh! Fuck you!"

"Yeah, I know," Lars chuckles as he leans back, skimming his fingertips down her calves and feeling how the tense muscles are twitching and jittering with excitement, to unbutton his pajama pants, giving his straining erection the freedom to breath at last. Already, his cock head is slick with spilled pre, a clear bead dripping down the underside of his bulging shaft as he takes it in one hand and strokes it, biting his lip as his gaze sweeps yet again over his lover's lithe form.  
Emerald shudders underneath him as he climbs on top of her, crossing her ankles behind his back to keep him close, and smothers her with a kiss. She's laying directly in the path of the fan, so she welcomes his encompassing warmth, kissing him back eagerly and whimpering pitifully when he pulls away, bringing a sloppy string of saliva with him. He licks his lips again, breaking that string, then grins dazedly as he rolls his hips, in a smooth up-and-down motion that glides his shaft between her labia, teasing her one last time before he finally pushes into her.

The two moan at the sensation of their joining, Emerald's inner walls squeezing him blissfully tight, pulsating eagerly around a shaft that feels impossibly hard compared to the floppy silicone toys Emerald and others like her were given to pleasure themselves back on Homeworld, to discourage them from wasting their time coupling. She had believed back then that it was an unnatural and dirty thing, unfortunately innate, something to hide in her chambers and be ashamed of. Now, she loves nothing more than waste her every waking moment pinned against Lars on any vaguely horizontal surface - and some vertical ones.

"Fuck, Emmy...," Lars grunts faintly as he forces himself to hold still for a moment, resisting the urge to begin thrusting into her right away, knowing that he'll come too soon if he does. His cock twitches within her. He can't help it, she feels so intensely good. "I'm confused, if Homeworld didn't want you guys to fuck, why'd the Diamonds make you with a body so nice? Why'd they make you so _fuckable_ , huh, Emmy?"

"For you, baby," Emerald pants underneath him, grinning slyly. He gives one hard thrust and wipes that smug smile right off of her face, her one eye practically rolling in its socket as he begins to move, fingers gripping absentmindedly at the bed sheets and one sharp fang worrying away at her lower lip, biting down harder and harder with each firm thrust until her mouth suddenly snaps open in a blissful moan. He silences her with a sloppy kiss, pulling away briefly before he smothers her yet again, twisting his head sideways to get a better grasp on her lips, tongues tangling messily in-between them.

Emerald whimpers as a particularly pleasant thrust sends a shockwave up her spine. "L-Lars!"

"You close already, baby?" he chuckles into the nape of her neck, where he's in the process of sucking a hickey, grinning against the tender skin, "You're lovin' this, aren't you?"

"I always do," she whimpers faintly, moments before she breaks off in a moan as that glowing red heat in her depths comes to a blistering head and erupts, her vision flashing white with fractured stars as she cries out his name, fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that her claws tear ragged fissures in the fabric.

"Oh, fuck...," Emerald says as she comes down from her orgasmic high, chest rising and falling unsteadily, mouth hanging open as she gasps hungrily for the sweet, cool air of the fan blowing on her, the room suddenly feeling entirely too hot. She's surprised when she finds him panting, too, slowly becoming aware of the sticky warmth oozing around his shaft inside her. She had been so caught up in her own intense arousal that she hadn't even felt him come.

Lars chuckles, sweat beading lightly on his forehead as he gazes down at her, again eying the rise and fall of her chest and the flush of her face and shoulders, thinking to himself how pretty she looks in the afterglow of orgasm. "Good thing my parents aren't home, Emmy, because you just notified the _neighbors_ that I just gave you the time of your life."

Emerald somehow blushes darker. "Was I really that loud?"

Chuckling, Lars shifts his weight onto one elbow, to reach down and gently brush a damp lock of hair away from her sweat-dabbled forehead. "You were screaming for me, baby. Screaming."

"I was not!" Emerald protests.

Lars laughs. "Don't be embarrassed, Emmy. It was hot, seeing an uptight, aristocratic gem like you come so undone." He leans down and kisses her forehead, then rolls off of her, propping himself up on one elbow and grinning smugly. "Oh, by the way, I won."

"Won?" Emerald quirks a brow at him.

"Yep. You might've won our game of _Space Race 64_ , but I won at this, because you came first. So, we're even," Lars informs her.

"No way!" Emerald rolls onto her stomach and leans up on her elbows, grinning back delightedly. "Best two out of three!"

"Ha! You're on!"


	2. Imbalance of Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, I might discontinue this series after this chapter. I haven't enjoyed writing it the way I had hoped and I think it's better for me to invest my time and effort into something that I might enjoy more, but we'll see!

Emerald doesn't know a damned thing about wrestling, no matter how many times Lars tries to explain it to her. Whenever the subject comes up, in fact, she nods her head, blinks her eye, and pretends she's listening while she occupies her thoughts with quite literally anything else. He can drone on and on about it for hours, if she doesn't distract him. She tries her best to be a good girlfriend, to be invested in his interests, but this is the one thing that she just can't find it in herself to understand. All Emerald knows of it is that, on Friday nights, Lars practically drags her across town to an old abandoned warehouse with graffiti-stained walls, where the smell of sweat and testosterone hangs so heavily in the air that it's nearly tangible and the humans are all skimpily dressed in spandex and nylon. Wrestling is...a human thing, she thinks, as she sips on a sugary sweet soda from the concession stand and holds Lars' hand in the audience, only dimly paying attention to the two people tousling beneath the glaring fluorescent spotlights. She can never imagine a gem engaging in something like this. At least, not a gem of her class. She supposes that certain young rowdy quartzes might be quite entertained by the idea of play-fighting for prizes and trophies. Perhaps rubies, too, if only because rubies can be convinced to do very nearly anything without much convincing at all.

Emerald doesn't like the warehouse. There are no bathrooms, the smell is overwhelming, and the folding metal chairs are profoundly uncomfortable. Still, she sits there quietly and sips her soda and tries her best to pretend she's paying attention - for Lars' sake. She waits and waits and, finally, someone seems to win the final match and Lars lets them leave. She holds his hand, dropping her empty soda cup in a trashcan on her way out, as he walks them home, relieved when the fresh cool night air hits her outside the warehouse. No more stinky, sweaty smells, no more glaringly bright lights, no more half-naked humans.

Lars kisses her cheek. "What'd ya think of that last match?"

"Oh...um..." Emerald is stuck. She doesn't even remember the last match, much less who was in it or how it ended. "It was...certainly something. Yes."

Lars quirks a brow at her. "You weren't paying attention, were you?"

"Um. No."

She expects him to look hurt. Instead, he chuckles and rounds the corner, bringing them to the street their house is on. It's a small home, sparsely furnished, with a garage for their scarcely used sports car and a tiny backyard that houses only one scraggly maple tree. Just big enough for the two of them to live in quietly after their half-decade of running for their lives in space. The two of them had moved in less than a month ago, feeling slightly deprived of their privacy in Lars' parents' attic. He walks them to the front door and unlocks it. "Guess it was too much to hope for. A pretty, prissy lady like you being interested in wrestling."

Emerald follows him in. "What can I say, baby? Emeralds aren't the type of gem to get their hands dirty."

"I know," Lars laughs, hanging the house keys on their hook, "Might break a nail."

Emerald holds a hand up and fans her fingers out, flashing him her meticulously manicured nails. Each two-inch claw is pristinely shaped into a lethal-looking point, then daintily tipped in bright white polish. "It would be a shame, wouldn't it?"

"You know, Emmy, you used to scare me," he says as he hangs his hoodie by the door, then helps her out of her coat, fingers sliding thoughtfully along her forearms and elbows, "It was easy to tease you, when you were just an image on a screen, but I always thought that, if you ever caught me in-person, you would kill me. Tear me limb-from-limb with those savage fangs and claws of yours."

"Emeralds are beautifully designed. We're meant to intimidate. Not to fight. Just to threaten."

"I figured that out a long time ago," Lars chuckles, hanging her jacket up, then snatching her up by the waist and hugging her close from behind, "All those big fearsome fangs ever do is give me a sweet little nibble on the ear while you're moaning and purring underneath me. And I've put in the hours painting those pretty nails of yours. Some claws they turned out to be."

"What? You think I can't be scary?" Emerald smiles as he rests his chin on her shoulder and nuzzles his nose against the warmth of her neck.

"Scary? Oh, Emmy, you're not scary. You're cute," he coos, then kisses her on the collarbone, "You're cute. Definitely sexy. But not scary."

"Good, because I think it would speak of an imbalance of power between us if you were afraid of me, dear." She reaches up and pats his cheek, then wriggles away from his arms to escape to the bathroom. Just being in that filthy warehouse makes her feel dirty. She wants a nice, hot shower to wash the lingering stench of sweat out of her hair.

Lars follows her, already shrugging out of his shirt. "Ha! I think we both know where the 'imbalance of power' lies between us."

Emerald scoffs, undressed down to her underwear in no time. Lars has to pause to admire how she looks in nothing but her skimpy black boy shorts, the butt fittingly emblazoned with a single silver word: nasty. Her taste in underwear (and bad action movies) is nowhere near as classy as the rest of her. "And I think you and I both know that enjoying being submissive to you in bed has nothing to do with this."

Lars unbuckles his belt and steps out of his skinny jeans while Emerald starts the shower. "Oh, really?"

"Really," she says, then stretches the elastic of her underwear between two fingers, flicks them at him, and steps into the shower. Lars follows her in, jerking the faded floral print shower curtain closed behind them. Emerald becomes a whole other creature when she's wet, her stiff mohawk of hair drooping beneath the weight of the water and flowing down past her shoulders in glossy green locks. No matter her gaudy tastes or weird hairstyles or ugly Homeworld garb, she's always breathtaking to him, elaborate and otherworldly and absolutely lovely. But, something about seeing her sopping wet and glistening in the shower's clouds of steam makes her look especially attractive to him.

Emerald notices his stare. "Hey. Eyes up here."

He grins, then reaches for her shampoo, popping the thirty-dollar bottle open and squeezing a generous dollop into his palm. He sets the bottle down, then starts to wash her hair, massaging her scalp delicately, especially the close-shaven sides where she's shape-shifted, in elaborate detail, his skull and crossbone insignia. The mark of an off-color looks especially good on such a finely made elite. Once upon a time, Emerald had been a highly regarded captain, teeming with decorations from the Diamonds themselves. She was a master engineer, a courageous captain, a fearless leader, and the finest of aristocrats. But, more importantly, she's his. "Can't help it, baby. You're just so...easy on the eyes."

She rolls her one eye. "How many times do you suppose we've had this very same exchange now?"

"Who cares? It's true," Lars tries her as he threads his fingers through her hair, lathering it up with sudsy bubbles that smell sweetly of mineral oil and the 'essence of the ocean' (or at least, that's what it says on the bottle). It smells nice, but only because it smells like Emerald.

"You're certainly a charmer," Emerald hums, sudsing up her arms with some equally expensive body wash while he washes her hair.

He smiles. "Turn around. Rinse."

It takes three whole minutes for Emerald to wash the suds out of her hair. When she's finished, Lars conditions it for her, too, then squeezes her shoulders with his still-soapy hands and grinds his growing erection into her irresistable ass.

"Oh, you," she remarks with a bemused smirk, before she turns around and bends backwards to rinse the conditioner out of her hair. Lars watches as streams of suds run down from her shoulders, over the lithe curve of her belly and down to her thick shapely thighs. The hood of her clitoris peeks out from her thick curly pubic hair, beckoning for him to touch it, which makes her breath catch in her throat. "Lars..."

"That's right. Good girl." He hums as he flicks her clit between his fingers, feeling how it twitches with a life of its own. She swats his hand away as she turns back around.

"Enough. Hand me the shampoo, so I can wash your greasy hair." Emerald's thirty-dollar shampoo has nothing on Lars' two-in-one shampoo-and-conditioner, which splutters out of the bottle in glops of pale pink that smell like vague artificial sweetness, not unlike bubblegum. It produces an unbelievable amount of suds as she massages it into his cotton candy pink hair. She's careful with her claws; she doesn't want to scratch his scalp. Once he's sudsed up, she moves aside and lets him rinse his hair beneath the shower head.

Emerald washes herself one more time while Lars steps out of the shower and dries off with the nearest towel, then ties it around his waist loosely and combs his hair. It's damp and fluffy-wet, springing up in cotton candy-colored curls as it starts to dry. He's already brushed his teeth and flossed before Emerald is done drying herself off, pausing thoughtfully to watch her run the towel over herself in the steam-foggy mirror. Water drips from her glossy green hair and down her back in glistening droplets, momentarily pooling above the plump curve of her ass before sliding past her hips and down her legs to the tiled floor. Then, Emerald wraps the towel around herself and obscures his view, reaching for her hair dryer. He ventures down the hall to their bedroom and turns on the TV while he waits, propping up on a pillow in bed and listening to the dim drone of the hair dryer in the background while he skims through the channels.

It takes Emerald half an hour to even begin to dry her hair and, even then, it isn't dry all the way through. She gives up, unplugs the hair dryer, and joins Lars in the bedroom, unsurprised when she finds him lounging completely naked on the unmade bed. "Put your pants on," she gripes, rifling through a dresser drawer for underwear and one of his tee shirts to sleep in.

"Nah," Lars says, grinning, "No use in getting dressed. They're just gonna wind up on the floor in a few minutes."

Emerald scoffs, but closes the drawer and ventures over to the bed. She drops her towel as she slides into bed with him, the smooth satin sheets cool on her bare skin. Lars wraps an arm around her shoulders, grinning delightedly as he kisses her on the cheek. "Hey, pretty lady."

She scoffs again. "Stop."

"Nope," he chuckles as he pecks her on the cheek again, then the jaw, then the shoulder. He presses his face into the nape of her neck and inhales the sweet aroma of her shampoo and body wash, feeling the rumbling of a purr beneath her smooth green skin, still warm from their shower. His Emerald is irresistible.

Emerald flicks him on the tip of the nose. "You are the horniest human I have ever met."

Lars snorts. The flick doesn't discourage him from nuzzling his nose right back up against the side of her neck, feeling the rhythmic pulse of blood through a shape-shifted jugular she doesn't need. "Most humans aren't openly horny towards people they've just met, Emmy. Maybe I'm just the horniest human you've ever met because I'm the only human you've ever seen horny."

"You know what I mean," she retorts, her finely manicured claws drumming impatiently against his lower back while the other traces ticklishly along his side. He shivers.

"You're impatient," Lars says, "You know it's more fun when there's foreplay."

She smiles lopsidedly, flashing him a glimpse of pointed white teeth. "Then, let's play."

Lars grins. The first rush of blood causes his cock to perk up with interest. "Okay."

Then, Emerald is suddenly scooped up underneath her stomach and thrown flat on her back in bed, not hard enough to knock the air out of her lungs, but certainly hard enough to startle her. She stares up at Lars with one wide eye and her mouth hanging open in surprise as he leans over her, curls of cotton candy pink brushed all to one side and hanging down beside them like a frilly fluffy curtain. "Y-You!" she finally blurts, the beginnings of a growl rumbling in the back of her throat.

"Gotcha," Lars chuckles, eying the way her modest breasts rise and fall with her breath, slightly faster now than it was a moment before, "It's a shame you weren't paying attention at the arena tonight, baby. Now I'm gonna win."

Her one eye narrows. "What are you talking about?"

"We're gonna wrestle and I'm gonna win," he informs her, grinning lopsidedly as he cups a breast in either hand and squeezes gently, watching how her breath hitches in response. This is too easy.

Emerald scoffs. "I am not engaging in your silly human bloodsport."

"C'mon, Emmy," he chuckles as he settles down on top of her, heavily enough for her to feel the pressing weight of him, with a hand on either side of her head.

"Get your fat ass off of me!" she snarls, squirming fitfully, but he knows she isn't really trying. If she wanted to, she could have thrown him across the room as easily as he might toss an empty soda can in the trash.

Lars laughs. "C'mon, you're gonna have to try harder than that!"

The two of them tussle. Emerald rolls them over and pins him down. He rolls her back, but he knows she must be letting him because she's so much bigger and heavier and stronger than he is. The two roll back and forth until the sheets are a rumpled mess, slipping off of one side of the bed. But, Emerald eventually grows tired of his games and, suddenly, he's the one who is on his back in bed, gazing up at her breathlessly and grinning in that lopsided way of his as she perches lightly on his hips.

"Gotcha," Emerald tells him, grinning.

"Oh, wow," he snarks, "You sure did."

"Where's the imbalance of power now?" she teases, then shifts her hips backwards to glide her puffy pussy lips purposefully along the hard shaft of his cock, "Interesting time to sprout an erection, Captain."

Lars grips tightly to her hips. "I thought you said there wasn't one."

"I hope there's not," Emerald says as she sits on his cock, palms pressed gently against his slim chest as she takes him in, sighing softly, "I would feel bad if you were really and truly afraid of me."

"If I was afraid of you, would I do this?" He squeezes two handfuls of her shapely hips and thrusts up into her hard, grunting softly. Emerald keens with a moan.

Then, her claws sink lightly into his chest, not enough to pierce the skin, but enough to get his attention. He stills his hips and looks at her. She smirks, a certain glimmer in her one green eye. "Yes, you would. You absolutely would. You remember the Cosmic Jubilee, don't you, Captain?"

Lars grins, too. "You bet I do. How could I forget?"

"You were afraid of me then, I'm very sure," Emerald purrs, beginning her own rhythm of up-and-down motions, bouncing lightly on his cock, "But, that didn't stop you from approaching me, dancing with me, and then sneaking away with me to do precisely this. And when we were done, you stole away with my clothes, my keys, and my Sun Incinerator."

He laughs. "You fell for it like a charm."

"What can I say? You were clever," she says, smiling almost shyly, "I'm glad you did it."

Lars smirks. "I know."

"I suppose it was hard to be afraid of me after that. You had quite literally seen me with my pants down."

"You weren't scary, no. But, you were intimidating. I knew there would be trouble if you caught us, but I just hoped I could charm my way out of it if you ever caught us."

Emerald laughs. "It worked."

"It worked," Lars agrees, grunting as Emerald's hips come down on him a bit harder.

"Really, I never stood a chance," Emerald says, her voice breathy with arousal, "You already knew my weakness."

"Sex?" Lars laughs.

"No. You."

Lars is too caught up in the mounting pressure of a growing orgasm and then the hot blissful release of it to appreciate what she said right away, but as the two of them crawl underneath the disheveled sheets, panting sweetly in the afterglow, he rolls onto his side and looks at her. "Did you mean that?"

"What?" Emerald asks, confused.

"When you said that I was your weakness. Did you mean that?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." She lays on her back and gazes thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "It wasn't like that at first, of course. We slept together once. And then, you were gone by morning without so much as a note and you stole my prized war ship, so of course, my opinion of you was very poor right then. But, the longer I chased you, the less I wanted to catch you. Because I knew what would happen if I did."

"But, you also knew what would happen if you didn't."

Emerald nods. "I did, but, after all the time we spent together, I...I didn't care about that as much. Protecting you was more important."

Lars smirks. "How sweet."

"Good thing you caught me first, I suppose," Emerald says, then rolls onto her side so that her back is towards him. He wraps an arm around her, bringing her in close.

"It's funny, isn't it?" he asks.

"What?"

"That we never should have been friends, much less...this."

She shrugs. "It's strange, how the affairs of humans work. I know that I had a sound reason to hate you, but you certainly should have hated me, too."

"But I didn't."

"I know. But, by all accounts, you should have."

"But I didn't."

Emerald smiles faintly, glancing at him over her shoulder. "I know."

They're quiet for a moment, but between the two of them, silence never lasts for long.

"There's another match tomorrow night, you wanna go?"

She feigns exasperation, sighing dramatically. "Oh, do I have to?"

"Yep," Lars chuckles, then kisses her cheek, "Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Lars."


End file.
